Romancing Olive (18 page)

“I don’t know, Jacob,” she said as she stood at the table.

Her hair was a mass of curls and hung over her shoulders. Olive’s glasses reflected the moonlight and he watched her pull her hair to one side. “Sit down. If we can’t sleep, then maybe a little snort will help us both.”

She seated herself and pulled her arms, tight under her breasts. Olive sipped tentatively, eyes watering. “Oh dear.”

“Don’t drink it too fast,” he said.

* * *

When Jacob turned to the table, she stared straight at his naked mid-section. He poured the whiskey and re-plugged the bottle and her eyes wandered from a flat hard stomach to the top of Jacob’s long johns and below. Something hung and swung loose, and bulged through the soft red cotton of his under drawers. Yee Gads, she thought and sipped at the small glass of whiskey.

They sat together silently and Olive warmed to the heat of the whiskey as it burnt a path to her stomach. “Were you thinking about your wife? Before, I mean.” Olive’s lips felt oddly numb and the words played slower to her ear than the movement of her lips.

Jacob nodded. “I nearly drank that whole bottle one night after Margaret died.”

Olive watched Jacob and she knew he was remembering. “Did it help?”

“No.”

“You said to me once that nothing does, except time. Is that true?”

“I still miss her,” Jacob said and tilted his glass to drink. “But time lessens the hurt. I have children and a farm and I couldn’t let my grief mean more to me than they did. Margaret wouldn’t have wanted that.”

Olive was quiet and swirled the amber liquid in her glass. “You loved her very much.”  Jacob looked up to Olive and his anguished smile pulled at her heart.

“More than life itself. I will love her until the day I die.”

“You are lucky then,” Olive said, as tears threatened.

“Lucky?” Jacob asked.

“Yes, lucky. Some of us don’t ever love like that. I imagine most of us don’t. Even though she’s gone, you’ll always know you were blessed with that kind of love.”

“I guess you’re right.” Jacob looked down at the table but then back to Olive quizzically. “What about you? Was there a man back in Philadelphia for you?”

Olive smiled and tilted her head. “No, there was never a man back home that evoked those kind of feelings for me.”

“Never?” Jacob asked softly.

Olive’s lip trembled. And she knew that she could not answer him honestly. The pull of her heart and her body to Jacob was so strong and so sure that she realized then she was lucky as well. Because she loved him truly. Loved a man who would mourn his dead wife until the day he died. Loved a man strong enough to put his grief aside and care for his children. Loved a man compassionate enough to rescue John and Mary from the nightmare they lived in. Like Theda, loved a man, younger than her, and unattainable as well.

“Never,” she whispered.

Jacob nodded, tight-lipped. He reached for her hand then and held it softly.

Olive stood abruptly and Jacob followed. He touched her chin and she shook her head, making the halo of her hair glisten and dance. Jacob pulled her hard in to his arms and kissed her.

Olive’s head swam from the whiskey and the feel of Jacob’s bare arms around her. Once admitted, love propelled her to accept his touch, his lips, his body. Where their hips clenched, she felt the unmistakable rise of his passion, hard and thick, pulsing into the soft flesh of her stomach. She pushed herself from his hold and held him at bay with her hands and the anguished look on her face.

“No,” she said.

Jacob shook his head. “I’m sorry, Olive. I would never force you to do something you didn’t want to. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“I’m not scared of you Jacob,” she whispered. “You are the kindest, gentlest man I’ve ever known.”

His head tilted and he questioned her without speaking.

Olive backed up slowly, arms chilled where Jacob had held her, lips bereft of his kiss. She touched her mouth and said, “It’s me I’m afraid of Jacob. Not you. Never you.”

* * *

The morning came through the window and Olive lay still and smiled at the rough wooden ceiling. With the abject pain of sure rejection came the sweet inner peace that love brought. And that peace wrinkled a smile to her lips even as she heard, in her head Jacob’s voice declaring his undying love for his wife. How tragic, she thought. He loves a woman unable to return his love, as she loves a man unable to return hers. Will I spend my remaining days watching Jacob from afar? She had grown comfortable living with a man and the children as a family. Will I sacrifice that comfort to remain true in my heart? Or will I marry, someone like Sheriff Bentley, and make the best of what the rest of my life presents me?

The thought of marrying anyone was shocking to Olive but as many of life’s sureties fell by the wayside, so did the idea that she was never meant to marry and raise a family and find comfort and intimacy and strength in another human being. Was she not as deserving as the next woman? But her smile faded again as she pictured a dinner with Mary and John and a husband. The man seated at the gingham-checked table was not the sheriff. Nor a stranger she had yet to meet. The man in her dream was Jacob.

Olive baked biscuits for breakfast and heated ham on the stove. “After everyone’s chores are finished, I would like to begin on today’s studies.”

“Why so early, Aunt Olive?” Luke asked.

“Because I would like to do some sewing today. I need some skirts for myself to work in, rather than the heavy dresses I brought.”

“What are you going to do with James’ land?” Jacob asked.

“Well, Mr. Butler, I’ve actually been thinking a lot about that question. And I was hoping you would be interested in farming it for me. It is good land?”

Jacob shoveled ham into his mouth and nodded. “Oh, yeah, prime land. You’ll need a barn, though.”

“I was wondering about that. I’ll have to have something for a horse and chickens and a cow. Are you interested in farming my property?”

* * *

The income from additional crops would surely make a difference for Jacob and his money woes. And he would see the children and Olive often. He wondered which would mean more to him. “I think we could come to some agreement.”

Olive smiled. “Good. That’s good. If I am to be partners with someone then I’m happy it will be you. I want John to learn farming the right way and I know I can trust you.”

“Usually a sharecropper is an employee, not a partner, Olive.”

“Well, then, I’m just going to be unusual. I will need help and I’ll have to rely on you to get us the best prices for our crop and all the other things that will have to be decided. If you agree to work my farm, then we’ll be partners until you choose not to or when John is old enough to work the farm himself. Or. . .or if I were to marry.”

Jacob looked up to Olive with questions and she brought her shoulders up with a breath and looked down at the table.

“Do you have any plans in the works to marry?” he asked.

The children listened intently and waited for Olive’s response.

“Well, no. Of course not. But I, well, you never know. Life seems to hold great mysteries for me. And I’ve decided I’m not to old to find someone to care about. Who would care about me.”

“Well, hell’s fires, you’re not too old. You’re the only one that thinks that,” Jacob replied.

“You said she was too old to dance with the sheriff, Daddy,” Luke reminded him.

Jacob sucked air through his teeth. “That’s not what I meant.”

“Oh, yes it is Daddy. You said she wasn’t acting her age,” Peg said.

“How old do ya have to be to dance?” Luke asked. “Mary danced with you. Ain’t she old enough?”

Jacob laid his hands on the table and looked everywhere but Olive’s face. When he did he only saw her lips soft and ready for more kisses, felt the hollow of her back where she arched in his arms and smelled the lilacs and summer in her hair.

“Daddy?” Luke said.

“What?” Jacob shouted.

Luke’s eyes grew wide. “I was just wondering if it weren’t about time for grandma to come see us. The last field is almost planted and you said last year, I remember, that grandma is as regular as pig shit.”

“Luke!” Olive cried.

“Well, he said it,” Luke replied. “I’m just repeating it.”

Jacob realized his son was right. Ma will be pulling up in her wagon any day now and won’t she have a time of it if Olive’s still here. “When did Jack say he could start on your house?”

Olive’s head tilted. “Anytime soon. Is your mother coming for a visit?”

Jacob turned in his chair, crossed his legs and drank his coffee. Shit, he thought. “Yeah, she’ll be here any day.”

“Will your father be coming as well?”

“I doubt it. Those two look forward to the week she’s here and they’re out of each other’s hair.”

* * *

Olive contemplated meeting Jacob’s mother. She was curious about his parents and his upbringing and why his mother’s visit would elicit such a response.

“If there’s anything you’d like me to do to get ready, I’d be happy to,” she offered.

“Not much to be done, but count the days till she’s gone.”

Olive’s eyes widened and she let her fear get the best of her. “Why do you say that?”

Peg pulled on Olive’s sleeve and giggled. “Grandma’s real bossy. Ma even used to say so. She said it took her a month of Sundays to put her house back the way it was before grandma’s visit.”

“Oh,” Olive said. “We used to look forward to overnight company. My mother would make special desserts and we would have tea in the afternoon and a house party for them with all the neighbors.” Olive looked away dreamily.

Jacob leaned across the table. “I’ll guarantee you my ma won’t drink afternoon tea.”

“She’ll sew with you though, Aunt Olive. She brings her shears and cloth and always helped Ma make us new clothes,” Luke said.

“Well, that sounds wonderful, then,” Olive said.

Jacob harrumphed and stood to leave. “When the boys are done with their studies, I could use them in the fields. Send them out.”

“It’s awfully hot for the boys in the sun this time of year, don’t you think?” Olive asked.

“Trust me, we won’t be hurrying.”

“Why not Daddy? Didn’t you say you wanted to get the planting done?” Luke asked.

“Yeah, well, that was before you reminded me that grandma’s coming. If the plantings done, we won’t be able to get out of the house.”

“Goin’ to leave us with her, huh, Jacob?” Mary asked.

“I’m going out to plow. Send the boys when they’re finished with their studies,” Jacob said.

* * *

The next day Jacob took the boys to the fields and Olive stood in the kitchen in her chemise as Mary pinned a skirt around her waist. Olive held her arms up and Mary struggled to follow her aunt’s instructions. The facing to a waistband to a seam and Mary stabbed Olive in the side for the tenth time.

“Ouch,” Olive said. “Yes, that’s where to pin it, Mary. Make sure you catch the facing.”

Mary and Peg and Olive’s heads turned as they heard a rumbling in the yard. “See who it is, Peg. Get ready to close the door and latch it if it’s not someone we know,” Olive said.

Peg peeked out the door and shouted, “Grandma!”

“Oh, dear,” Olive said. “Mary can you hurry and get that pinned. I’m not dressed.”

“Hang on, Aunt Olive, I’m almost done.”

Peg was jumping and shouting on the porch as sweat began to run down the underside of Olive’s arm. “Quickly, Mary.” When Olive looked up to the doorway, she saw a woman, a large woman holding Peg.

“What in the Sam Hill’s going on here?”

Mary jumped and dropped the pins and the fabric from Olive’s waist. Olive stood still, took a deep breath, and as she did the unfinished garment made a slow descent to the floor. She refused to be cowed, though and graced the woman with a pleasant smile even as her face reddened.

“You must be Mrs. Butler. I’ve heard so much about you. Won’t you come in?”

“I reckon I will. Seeing how this is my boy’s house,” the woman said and narrowed her eyes.

Olive excused herself and hurried behind the curtain of her bedroom. She quickly dressed and combed her hair. Olive listened through the curtain as Peg tried to explain who Mary and Olive were.

“Her mommy and daddy got killed and Daddy went to get them and this is Aunt Olive. She lives here.”

This massive woman stood hands on her hips nodding and looked up to Olive as she came around the curtain.

“Don’t rightly get all that. Who are you?”

Olive held her hands folded at her waist and explained to Jacob’s mother who she was and how she came to live with her son. “And so you see, I am building a home of my own and my niece, Mary and my nephew, John and I will be moving soon. I hope we won’t interfere with your visit.”

“You always stand around the house half naked?” Mrs. Butler asked.

“Well, no, Mrs. Butler, I was making myself a new skirt and Mary is learning to sew. It just took us a little longer than usual.”

Up until that time, Mrs. Butler had fired so many questions Olive’s way that she had not noticed a young woman stood behind the massive female replica of Jacob. “Please come in. I’ve made some iced tea since it’s so warm. Would you like some? Or would you?” Olive asked Jacob’s mother and the other woman.

“This here’s my neighbor’s sister’s girl. Audrey. I brung her for Jacob.”

“Brought,” Mary said. “Brought her, not brung her.”

Olive’s eyes widened and she glared at Mary. Her niece returned the look with a sly smile. And then the woman’s words sunk into Olive’s brain. The rosy faced girl, no more than seventeen, tilted her head and smiled.

“Pardon me?” Olive said.

“I brung her for Jacob,” the woman said and stared at Mary, lifting a brow. “Been more than a year since Margaret died. Time he was getting a new wife.”

“Oh,” Olive said. “Has Mr. Butler met Audrey before?”

“Nope.”

Olive looked at the girl. She was a darling thing but appeared far too young for Jacob or marriage or anything but dolls. And she seriously doubted Jacob would appreciate his mother’s interference.

“Audrey, it’s a pleasure to meet you. Welcome to Jacob’s home,” Olive said.